


Winter Giving Way to Warmth

by CountlessUntruths (KaliCephirot)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Established Relationship, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 05:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8519485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaliCephirot/pseuds/CountlessUntruths
Summary: It's just been a few weeks, so the distant part of Yuuri's brain that somehow manages not to die each time Viktor kisses him, tells him that he will get used to this, probably. The rest of his dying, overwhelmed self screams at the thought, because surely he'll never ever get used to this, to being in Viktor's arms, to kissing him like this, even if they somehow did kiss for all of Yuuri's probably-short-and-dying-of-kissing-Viktor-life. (Hypothetically set after Ep 7)





	

The moment they’re inside the hotel room, Victor pushes him, gently, against the door, and kisses him, his hands on his waist, and pressing up close so there’s no space between him and Viktor at all.

Kissing… Yuuri wants to say he’s gotten used to kissing, that he has learned the shape of Viktor’s mouth against his, of the nibbling kisses and teasing bites to his bottom lip that Yuuri swears he can _feel_ all through the next day, that he’s sure everyone and anyone could see if they’d just look. Viktor has an oral fixation and he adores kissing, which suits Yuuri just fine because he adores kissing Viktor back.

But saying he’s gotten used to Viktor’s kisses would be a lie, like saying that he doesn’t need to breath anymore, like denying the blood inside his veins. Viktor kisses as if there was no rush, as if they could kiss and kiss and kiss and not do anything more.

It’s just been a few weeks, so the distant part of Yuuri’s brain that somehow manages not to die each time Viktor kisses him, tells him that he will get used to this, probably. The rest of his dying, overwhelmed self screams at the thought, because surely he’ll never ever get used to this, to being in Viktor’s arms, to kissing him like this, even if they somehow did kiss for all of Yuuri’s probably-short-and-dying-of-kissing-Viktor-life.

Viktor speaks against his lips, his English a little rough, his voice soft, just for Yuuri to listen.

“You were so, so good out there, Yuuri. I’m so proud.”

Different things fight inside his brain to be said. His worrysome self, was he really? Except that no, he knows he was, in a way that, if he thinks too hard about it, will trigger his self-sabotaging, so he doesn’t want to focus on that, because he still needs another tournament before he can try for the Grand Prix again. His (pretty non-existent) flirty self, was Viktor properly seduced by Yuuri’s Yuuri, then? Well, considering he was being kissed and held, probably.

Instead, his practical self. A smile, leaning against Viktor a moment, because he can just not question this, not now, and accept it, the way he accepted the first kiss - and almost had a heart attack later - and the second and the third. Viktor’s kisses keep piling up until he’s not sure in what number they are, just that each and everyone has been more and more precious for him.

He gives a small nod, a soft laugh, pushes a little. “I need a bath. I’m too sweaty.”

“It doesn’t seem that way to me,” Viktor says, and he nuzzles against Yuuri’s hair for a moment, probably to make him laugh. When he does, Viktor does let him go. “I’ll ask for something light for dinner. Yuuri, do you want anything in special?”

“Just some tea. Maybe some fruit?” he’s was barely able to stop his anxiety from ruining his free program, but that had been a ‘put-on-a-queue’ and not dealt with, and experience tells him that even tough he won, even though everything happened the way it was supposed to happen, he’s going to fret soon about that, about maybe having reached his best already, about losing Viktor when he realizes that this is the best Yuuri will ever manage to do. He can already hear the voices inside his head going off too fast, to shrilly, enough to feel like a tight knot on the base of his stomach.

When he comes out, Viktor has taken off his jacket and tie and he’s sitting at the only small table of the room. Viktor had laughed at the smallness of the room, trying to recall when had it been he had been in such a small place and couldn’t bring it to mind. But now he seems completely at ease, sleeves folded up until his forearms, shoes already off. Instead of food or tea, there’s a bottle of baijiu and a free glass that, he guesses, it’s for him.

“Yuuri! Come have a drink with me! We should celebrate your performance today.”

Yuuri pushes his glasses up with a finger, but he has known for a while now that there is nothing that Viktor may ask of him that Yuuri won’t give him, he is that foregone. But he sighs a little as he does so.

“Should I really be drinking? If I end up hungover tomorrow it’s going to be a problem. I might throw up on the plane.”

“Oh, just a sip or two isn’t going to give you hangover,” Viktor waves his free hand. Yuuri just sighs but 'kampai’s with Viktor and then drinks, trying not to wince: he has never gotten used to the strong taste of the baijiu, but Viktor drinks it calmly as he dimples at him, and he drinks again when Viktor pours again, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spreading through him, actually relaxing him.

Viktor’s voicec sounds kind as well as plotting when he speaks.

“Should we go to bed, Yuuri?”

“That sounds good, I am ti– oh,” Viktor doesn’t have to say anything. His eyes, focused on him, make Yuuri feel as if he’s burning, and he has to look at the table. “Y-yeah, I g-guess.”

Because there are two beds, but the night they arrived, Viktor had moved in to sleep with him and Yuuri would have been unable to sleep, but Viktor kissed him and kissed him and kissed him up until he had almost melted, until the fact that the person he had liked since even before he fully understood what _liking someone_ was was sleeping by his side.

Viktor smiles at him and drinks the last of his drink. “I’m going to wash up too, then. You can go ahead, Yuuri.”

Which is easier said than done, because there is not much distance between the table he’s currently sitting and the bed and/or/beds of the room, but it still takes Yuuri two tries before he can make his suddenly frozen legs to move and he’s ever so thankful that Viktor is in the shower while he tries to remember how to walk (and thinking of _Viktor taking a shower_ is not doing much to help him be a normal functioning human being, really…) so Yuuri has just barely sat down (his? their?) the bed and has taken off his glasses when Viktor comes out, turning off the main lights, leaving just the lights on the bedside table to show the way.

Before Yuuri can say goodnight or ask Viktor if he wants to watch some TV before they sleep or anything at all, Viktor is kissing him again, pushing him slowly down the bed until Viktor is on top of him. Yuuri kisses back, surprised by the intensity of Viktor’s kiss, surprised by his own hunger for that kiss. Viktor’s weight on top of him leave him breathless, and Yuuri curls his arms around Viktor’s waist,   parts his mouth at the first swipe of Viktor’s tongue and he shivers, tries to bring Viktor even closer to him.

And Viktor _does_ get closer, stops holding himself up with his forearms. He curls one arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, his free hand on Yuuri’s waist, then beneath his shirt until Yuuri gasps, and then he moves to nuzzle against his neck. Yuuri feels Viktor give the smallest nip against his neck and he shivers from head to toe with that. Viktor smiles against his neck and Yuuri can feel the shape of that smile.

“If you didn’t have an interview tomorrow, I’d bite,” Viktor says, sounding amused, and Yuuri almost, almost says that he doesn’t mind, that Viktor should mark him everywhere to make it clear that, as far as Yuuri is concerned, he is Viktor’s. But Viktor has his free hand curled around the hem of his shirt now, giving it a soft tug. “Can I take this off?”

“Um, yes, sure, lemme…” Viktor lets him go just enough for him to take off his shirt and toss it somewhere, and then Viktor’s body is pressing him against the mattress again, stretching Yuuri’s arms over the pillows, holding his hands there without much strength. When he lets go, Yuuri keeps his arms there as Viktor kisses the inside of one of his arms, up towards his shoulder, his collarbones.

Viktor _does_ bite him there and Yuuri makes a surprised noise, and then he can’t stop himself from moaning when Viktor tongues the bite, soothing it. Viktor keeps biting and licking and sucking dowh his chest, and it takes Yuuri entirely too long to realize what Viktor wants, what Viktor is planning to do until Viktor is on his navel, licking at his belly button, undisturbed by the faint line of hair that trails down his pajama pants.

When Viktor tries to pull said pants down, Yuuri jumps again, slapping his hands on top of Viktor’s, his face - he knows - completely red, everything inside his brain giving a long, continous shrill of what.

“V-Viktor! Th-that’s not– w-we can’t! I-I can’t! Y-you can’t!”

“Oh, I can,” Viktor says, absolutely no shame at all on his ever so casual grin. “I’m very good, actually! I’ve had no complaints.” Which is someting, Yuuri thinks, that he didn’t need to know, not when he’s… he’s hard. Harder than he remembers being, because he has never, ever had Viktor between his legs, and he never, ever had Viktor wanting to give him oral sex or touch him like that. Yuuri is certain that steam is going to blow out of his ears every moment now.

But then Viktor’s mischievous grin softens and it turns into one of his kinder smiles, pointed chin against his stomach and looks at him with a smile, his hands still on his hips. The light is terrible and without his glasses Yuuri can’t make the details of Viktor’s blue eyes, but he can feel them focused on him.

“Alright then,” Viktor says. “But I would like to eat you, Yuuri. Can you tell me when it’d be alright?”

Yuuri Katsuki, time of death.

Because suddenly he’s picturing Viktor just doing– that. With him. Yuuri’s mouth goes dry. He’s almost not breathing, but he nods at Viktor, pushing at his hands so that both Viktor and him can take off his pants. It’s nothing new, this being naked with Viktor, but it is new and amazing and terrifying.

But by now Viktor does know him, at least parts of him. He moves up again, settles between his legs– Yuuri can feel Viktor like that, feel him hard for this. For _him_. When Viktor kisses him it’s with a neediness that Yuuri shows as well. When they stop kissing, Yuuri thinks he hears some sort of breathlessness from Viktor, even though he’s smiling.

“Hold me, alright?” Viktor says against his mouth. He reaches for Yuuri’s right hand and curls it over the nape of his head and Yuuri thinks he could come just from this, from the unexpected freedom to run trembling fingers through Viktor’s hair. “It’s alright if you pull a little. And if you pull too much, I’ll stop.”

“I’m not going to pull your hair!” Yuuri shrills, but he can’t make his hand leave Viktor’s hair, can’t make himself anything but tighten, a little on Viktor’s neck.

“No?” Viktor chuckles, and this close, even with the terrible light Yuuri can see the heat in his eyes. “That’s a shame. I like that.”

Yuuri imagines Viktor– not Viktor now, the Viktor with long hair, the younger Viktor that very well might have been his sexual awakening, and he imagines Viktor like this– Viktor between someone– no, Viktor between *his* legs, his hair trailing against his stomach, against his thighs, and when Viktor takes him in his mouth, Yuuri tightens his hold on his hair and pulls, a little, and he _feels Viktor’s moan_ through his cock.  

Yuuri lasts as much as he can, which is - most likely - not much at all. He’s never been big on getting himself off, and this is Viktor making him come, Viktor licking a wet stripe down his cock to his balls and sucking on them, too, Viktor twirling his tongue on the head of his cock and licking at precome. And Yuuri can’t think like this, can’t do anything against the silken warmth of Viktor’s mouth and tongue and intense gaze, his eyes focused on him, Yuuri can feel the way he’s looking at him and–

The only warning he manages is squeezing Viktor’s neck as the world explodes into rainbows inside his brain. When he’s done he feels Viktor let go and move towards the nightstand for tissue, Yuuri guesses from the orgasm-sedated parts of his brain where usually his overwhelmedness exists. But Viktor takes instead a glass of water and drinks, and the implications of that almost makes Yuuri swallow his tongue.

He must make a noise. Viktor turns to look at him and he smiles, a hand on his head, combing through his hair.

“You should try to sleep now, Yuuri. We’re going to spend almost all day tomorrow at the airport, that’s never fun.”

He frowns a little, reaches for Viktor’s hand.  "What about you?“ he asks, because he had felt Viktor’s erection, couldn’t have imagined that.

"Me? Oh,” Viktor laughs and waves his free hand. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll just go to the bathroom.”

And… that’s not it. That’s not what he wants. Not tonight. So he gathers all his courage, not letting go fo Viktor’s hand.

“Can I… can I touch you, too?”

He doesn’t dare to look at Viktor’s expression, almost sure that his blood is going to boil and he’s going to die just then and there.

Viktor doesn’t answer vocally, and thankfully he doesn’t try to make this into something big. Instead, Viktor moves to lay down by Yuuri’s side and he brings Yuuri closer to him, and reaches for one of his hands to curl it around his hard, hot cock. Yuuri makes a strangled noise, almost afraid to move for a moment, breathing against Viktor’s shoulder, before he starts, slowly, to caress him.

Viktor kisses his forehead, nuzzles against him. “A little harder, Yuuri,” and Yuuri is afraid that he might never, ever stop blushing, but he does what Viktor asks, to go faster, to slow a little, to tease the underside of the head. He feels Yuuri tighten his arm around him, his breathing heavy.

“I’m close, Yuuri,” and then he sighs, aching against his hand. “Don’t stop, please,” and then Viktor comes in his hand, his body warm and relaxed against his. It takes Yuuri saying Viktor’s name twice before he lets go so that Yuuri can reach for the tissues to clean his hand and, feeling embarrsed (for ridiculous reasons, considering, really), he cleans Viktor as well.

Viktor murmurs a 'thank you’ in Russian, one of the few words that he has gotten around to understanding, and then he pulls at Yuuri’s arm until he leans down to rest against Viktor again.

“I was going to put on my pajama again,” Yuuri murmurs,  feeling Viktor wrap himself around him, an arm around his waist, his back to Viktor’s chest.

“No need,”  Viktor yawns. “We sleep naked today.”

“You’re not naked, you’re still wearing the yukata…” he laughs a little when he feels Viktor taking it off before holding unto him again.

“There!” Viktor says, victorious. “ _Now_ we really have to sleep, we’re spending most of tomorrow at the airport.”

The romantic part of Yuuri would like to reply that he’s never going to sleep again, ever, unable to ever not think about tonight.

But he is exhausted and Viktor’s warmth and scent are, ever so slowly, becoming familiar, almost like home, and soon Yuuri is completely asleep, feeling Viktor’s head against his shoulder.


End file.
